Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
This confused me, so I asked her to explain and give me a play-by-play of that entire exchange with Derek. By the time she recounted all that had happened in that encounter, it seemed plausible that Derek had run into her instead of seeking her out.
Maybe the van thing was a coincidence that he took advantage of. We debated it and she admitted she wasn’t sure if he’d just seen her while at his club or if he’d waited to run into her. Regardless, it didn’t make what he did okay. He made sure to intimidate and threaten her. The way she described it from start to finish sounded slightly less horrific than I’d first imagined it. But only slightly. I wasn’t giving him a pass; he’d made direct threats about her being part of my life. Or not.
He wasn’t getting a pass on anything he’d done, including punishment sex the other night. Or emotion-affirming sex. Or… me Derek, you my woman caveman sex. Whatever it was… it was memorable, that’s for sure. But then again, sex with Derek always is. As usual, I do my best to push those thoughts away. And as per the norm, I fail.
I’ve gotten stuck in a sort of loop of thinking frequently about all the things Grace told me about his history.
And for a moment I allowed myself to ponder whether or not cooperating with all of this would change anything. Would it be me throwing in the towel and letting him win at this game I’ve been an unwilling participant in? Or would there be any sort of shot at happiness in a marriage with him?
And big question: would having kids with him mean I’ve got a chance of having a kid with a genetic predisposition to mental illness? Is what Derek has become due to trauma? Or is it in his DNA? The stories I’ve heard about Thad Steele make me think it might be a little of both. I berate myself for considering having kids with him, of course, but my thoughts repeatedly flit to the visions I had of him with kids here in this house, in this yard, in that treehouse out there.
I wake up touching someone and startle, moving away.
It’s Derek and I’ve been snuggled into his back. I reach over to the bedside table and touch my phone. Two o’clock in the morning.
I stare at the back of him for a solid minute before a familiar unpleasant, lonely twinge twists in me.
“How’s your dad?” I ask softly, not sure how long he’s been here or if he’s even awake.
“Alive,” he answers.
I sit up and take a long drink of my water. He keeps his back to me.
If everything that has happened between us hadn’t happened, I could try to comfort him right now, offer an ear so he could talk out his emotions.
But that’s not where we are. It’s nowhere I can fathom getting to.
I lie down again and blink into the darkness, listening for his breathing to even out. I drift off before it happens.
I try to move but I’m sort of trapped. And uncomfortable. By the faint light peeking in through the blinds, it must be near dawn. I’ve got Derek wrapped around me. Tight.
As my eyes adjust I realize he’s awake. Staring into space. But the grip he has on me feels like he thinks he needs to hold on otherwise I’d float away.
“I have to pee,” I whisper.
His grip loosens and he moves away just enough for me to get up.
When I come back and climb in, he’s looking at me. It’s still kind of dim in here, but it looks like he’s staring at me with surprise. Maybe he’s surprised I’ve gotten back into bed.
“Did you sleep much?” I ask.
He stares at me with his brows knitted. “Not much.”
“What time did you get back?” I ask. Not like it matters. I guess I’m making conversation. Seeing if he wants to talk.
“Back?”
“From New York.”
“I got back from New York on Sunday night.”
It’s now Thursday morning. I frown.
“I stayed at the apartment,” he explains, obviously reading my confusion.
“Is Grace back, too?”
“She’s at their Manhattan apartment.”
“Anybody else back?”
He shrugs.
So he was there by himself for the last few days. And this means he’s been half an hour away for three days.
“You’re upset with me for that?” he asks.
I try to clear my expression.
I’ve got a lot to be angry with Derek for, but I shouldn’t be upset about being left here. He lost his mother. But he does have me under guard, doesn’t he? Has he been watching me? I don’t bother to ask. Instead, I ask, “Do you… wanna talk about it?”
The frown lines on his forehead deepen.
He finally says, “No.”
“Okay,” I whisper, about to turn back over to see if I can find sleep again.